


A Study in Noir

by 7_Magpies



Series: Tinsley and Goldsworth [1]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Because of course he is, Blow Jobs, Buzzfeed Unsolved References, Case Fic, Detective C. C. Tinsley, Dirty Talk, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Time, Flirting, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Light Bondage, M/M, Nipple Play, Private Eye CC Tinsley, Smut, Undercover, Undercover As Prostitute, creative or lazy? you tell me, i don't think i came up with a single character name, maybe? - Freeform, ricky goldsworth is hot, they're all from cases or the crew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:20:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25759483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/7_Magpies/pseuds/7_Magpies
Summary: C. C. Tinsley is a Private Eye and damned good at it, thank you very much. So when Ricky Goldsworth comes to him with a job that will settle a grudge that Tinsley has held for a long time, the detective jumps at the chance.He didn't quite know just how hard he was going to fall into Ricky's orbit, though, or just how much danger can come with getting even.So when he and Goldsworth end up in trouble, and Ricky's past comes into question, will Tinsley be able to trust him?
Relationships: Ricky Goldsworth/C. C. Tinsley, Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Series: Tinsley and Goldsworth [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1897393
Comments: 28
Kudos: 69





	1. The Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, friends! I've never written these characters before, or this style. Please keep that in mind, because there's no telling how rough around the edges this is. 
> 
> This is set in a very indeterminate time period, so any anachronisms are best ignored.
> 
> Yeah, I put a ton of references in here. Yeah, I think they're brilliant. No, I'm not taking criticism at this time, thank you.

“I hear you’re a decent gumshoe?”

C. C. Tinsley looked up from the book he was reading to see a man walk into his drafty little office. The man was a bit shorter than average, with golden brown skin and deep brown eyes. His black hair was a mess when he took off his hat, and even in the shadows of the office, C. C. could see the stubble on his sharp jawline and the bags under his dark eyes. 

“So they say.” He took his long legs off the desk and set his book aside. “How can I help you?” 

The younger man seemed not to know what to make of this PI. C. C. knew he was an odd breed, which could be both an asset and a downfall. This man was something, though, and it made him regret the messy suit he was wearing and the scraggly stubble across his less defined jawline. He made a mental note to try and steel his soft voice. This was a no-nonsense kind of guy. C. C. was good at his job because he could read people and adapt himself accordingly, and he felt he’d pegged this man already. 

Not literally, of course, but a man could dream. 

“I need a coupla shady figures tailed. That your kinda gig?” The smaller man slouched in a chair across the wooden desk from the detective, looking like he belonged there. Even more than Tinsley, with his fresh suit and casual demeanor. Not just that, but there was something behind the young man’s eyes. Something sharp and deadly, but beautiful and enticing. Something that drew Tinsley in deep. 

“Sounds like my sort of thing. Who are these ‘shady figures,’ and what kind of tailing are you asking?” 

“They’re about to put a hit out on me. I figure they’ll be willing to let me slip if they find out good ol’ five-oh has info on them.” 

C. C. nodded and lit up a cigarette, taking a long draw. “You’ve gotten on the bad side of some people that now want you dead, so you want me to get incriminating evidence and turn it over to the police, hoping that will distract them enough for your great escape?” Tinsley summarized and conjectured, feeling confident he was on the money. 

The dark stranger nodded. “I can pay you. In a number of ways,” he added in a deeper tone with a suggestive look down C. C.’s long form. 

“You can settle the cost with my assistant out front. He’s married, so you might wanna stick with cash.”

The man smirked slightly. “I like you, gumshoe. The name’s Goldsworth. Richard Goldsworth. You can call me Ricky.” He leaned forward and offered his hand for Tinsley to shake, which he did. 

“You’ve got a good grip. You can learn a lot about a man by his grip, y’know.”

“What have you found out about me?” Tinsley asked, humoring Goldsworth. 

Ricky made a tutting noise with his tongue, shaking his finger as though scolding a puppy. “Can’t tell. That’s not how it works. It’s for me to know, and you to think you know.”

C. C. couldn’t help smiling at the odd individual. “So who are these folks you need dirt on and what dirt do they have to want to get six feet of it on ya?”

Ricky kicked back in the chair, his arms behind his head. Even through the suit, Tinsley could see his defined muscles. “Let’s say I found some dirt of a… personal manner. Some people playing ‘hide the sausage’ in the wrong pantry, if you catch my drift.”

Tinsley nodded. “The mob? Gangs?”

“That’s where this gets fun,” and the dark, dangerous thing in the young man’s eyes spread to his lips. That smile was less a sign of joy and more the baring of teeth of a predator. “The Spiritualists.”

——- 

“C. C., you know this is a bad idea, right? You and the Spiritualists didn’t really part company on pleasant terms.”

“Yeah, TJ, I know. I was there for it.”

His assistant threw his hands up, as though in surrender. “Hey, it’s your neck. It just happens to be what pays me, so you can’t blame a fella for getting concerned. If I let you get killed my wife would make sure I was next in line.”

C. C. chuckled. “I’ll be safe, TJ. Tonight is purely recon. Get on home. Kiss the wife and baby for me.”

TJ stood from his seat in Tinsley’s office and started for the door. “Just watch your back out there, brother.”

“Scout’s honor.” After TJ left, Tinsley turned back to the window he was leaning back against, letting the smoke from his cig flow out the window into the chilly night air. LA at night was always like a balm to his soul, and goodness knew he needed that tonight. 

Ricky was unaware of his personal experience with the Spiritualists, of course. It was less than common knowledge. The group kept a low profile. This suited C. C. just fine. 

A couple years earlier, Tinsley had been trying to find his feet as an investigator. He started by trying to show the Spiritualists for what they were, con men. They would invite desperate people that wanted answers logic couldn’t provide, like what happened to a missing loved one, or to get some closure from a spouse lost too soon. It would always start innocently enough, a simple session for a modest fee. This session would give the newest sucker just enough to draw them in, make them keep coming back. That’s when they’d receive an invite to a weekly seance. This is where all the stops came out. Members planted in the audience, trick tables, pre-recorded voices playing on tapes hidden in the walls, smoke and mirrors, Houdini himself had never encountered such an intricate ploy. At these weekly seances, the leaders would convince their congregation that there was a Great Evil coming, but that the Spiritualists had the power to stop it. They _just_ need a little help of the financial variety, if you could be a dear? 

C. C. had almost done it, almost proven just how batshit the whole thing was, preying on desperate people to exploit their money. He’d been stopped when he was escorted out of the theater and given a beating he still dreamt about in his darkest nightmares. All the people in the theater, the poor dupes, were convinced he was still grieving his dear wife and was still in denial of the Spiritualists' power. At least, that’s what TJ said was fed to the audience, who bought it hook, line, and sinker. 

Ricky’s dirt could be enough cause for Tinsley to take their whole rotten ring down, though, and C. C. practically salivated at the information. 

The founder of the Spiritualists, a man that went by Somerton, had all three of his kids help him with the shows. Apparently his oldest son was _fraternizing_ with the son of the local mob boss. 

Goldsworth, being an enterprising young man, decided to try and blackmail the mob. ”Enterprising,” not ”blessed with enough brain cells in his pretty head to rub two together.” Naturally the mob boss, Bennett, wasn’t thrilled with this snot-nosed new-in-town kid threatening his boy’s reputation. Homosexuality was a thing that happened, Tinsley himself couldn’t judge at all, but in the mob environment it could be enough to incite a power-grab once Bennett’s son was in charge. So, Bennett and Somerton both agreed to get it in the works to put out a mighty impressive hit on Ricky’s head, as long as no one asked any questions as to why this new kid was wanted dead. 

“What makes you think I won’t turn you in for that bounty myself?” C. C. had asked at this, after puffing out a lungful of smoke. 

“I shook your hand and figured out why kind of man you are,” Ricky had said. 

Tinsley looked down at the hand he had offered Goldsworth. He wasn’t sure what the younger man had felt in his grip, what he’d gleaned from the brief conversation, but apparently it was enough for him to trust Tinsley. 

He wasn’t planning on betraying it though. 

His gaze slipped to his watch. “Showtime,” he murmured, and he checked his reflection in the mirror on the wall of his office on his way out the door. TJ had expertly applied the bleach blonde mustache and wig, and drawn marks on his skin with his wife’s makeup pencil. Anyone that saw him would think he had been burned badly, and would note that particular detail before any specific features. He also had a bottle cap slipped in his right shoe to give him a limp. He grabbed his cane and smiled at his reflection. _This is gonna be fun._


	2. A Plan Forms

Despite himself, Tinsley had to admit that the Spiritualists were fantastic showmen. They introduced the “Great Evil” in such a way that even he felt a chill down his spine. 

Most of the night just cemented what he already knew from his last go-round with these bastards. One new detail, however, made him sit ramrod straight in his seat. 

He saw Ricky among the white-robed Spiritualists, working alongside them to help them “communicate with the beyond” or whatever cock-and-bull story was being touted. 

C. C. felt the pieces he hadn’t realized were missing slide into place. 

After the seance, when newcomers and long-time converts were discussing the pros and cons of donating to the group, Tinsley watched Ricky slip out unnoticed. He followed.

Goldsworth was walking down the street, his white robe left in the theater, and he walked down the almost empty street. Tinsley followed. He wasn’t sure what he was trying to find out about the man, but he felt there was something to be learned. 

They trekked a fairly zig-zagging path before Tinsley lost sight of him. He was about to give up and head for home when, suddenly, strong arms were pulling him down an alley. Before he could so much as think a complete thought, he was pressed back against a brick wall with a warm hand over his mouth and a small form holding him in place. “Can I help you with something, Gramps?”

Goldsworth’s face changed once he got a good look at Tinsley in the sparse light. “Gumshoe? I thought I hired you to follow other people, not  _ me. _ What’s the big idea?” He kept him pressed back against the wall, but moved his hand so C. C. could speak.

“You didn’t tell me you’re a Spiritualist,” he replied.

“What can I say, a gig’s a gig.”

“Even if your boss wants you dead? That’s how you found out about Bennett and Somerton’s boys, isn’t it? But why are you still working there if there’s gonna be a price on your head?”

“Sweet of you to be concerned, really. But right now my defensive position is that they don’t know I know about the bounty about to be placed on this pretty noggin. Besides, I can take care of myself,” he said this last bit with a pointed look at where his strong hands were holding TInsley against the wall.

“Now that that’s settled, would you be a sweetheart and let me breathe? I’ve got bricks digging into my ass.”

Goldsworth stayed for a moment, looking at C. C. with that dangerous gaze. Tinsley imagined briefly those full lips coming up to meet his own, that strong hand working under his trousers, but he blinked the thought away. 

Ricky finally stepped back. “Nice disguise.”

“Thanks, I’ve had a run in with these folks before.”

RIcky nodded. “Well, hope you’re better at tailing these guys than you were at following me, gumshoe. I’ll swing by your office in a few days, see how you’re coming along.”

C. C. tipped his hat. “See you then, Ricky.”

The smaller man smiled that dangerous predator smile and then left the alley. Tinsley watched him, allowing himself to note the sway of his hips with each step.

\-----

True to his word, Ricky showed up at Tinsley’s three days later. “Hey there, gumshoe. How’s the job coming?”

Tinsley turned from the chalkboard he had been working at, and suddenly felt self-conscious when he noted Ricky’s handsome figure walking in. 

He had been working for hours that day, trying to come up with a good next step to get the dirt he needed. His hair was askew, his shirtsleeves rolled up, his tie undone and lying across his shoulders. 

Ricky stepped forward and grabbed the tie, his fingers stroking along C. C.’s chest more than strictly necessary as he took hold of it and took it off from around his neck. 

Tinsley swallowed stiffly, and quickly compartmentalised. He put Ricky back in the box in his mind, and stored it on a high shelf, and then went back to the opened box of facts about the task at hand. 

“I think I’m getting close to a plan. It’s a risky one, though.”

Ricky nodded, hanging the tie he had taken off of Tinsley over the coat rack by his side. “I’m all ears.”

C. C. turned back to his chalkboard, gesturing with the nub of white chalk in his hand as he spoke. “The mob runs this underground brothel. I know, brothels aren’t exactly enough to make the police take notice. This one might be, though. It’s all men and boys. My buddies on the force tell me they’ve been trying to bring it down for weeks.”

Ricky hummed. “I’ve heard of the place, never been myself.”

“I’ve found out the past few days that Somerton and Bennett are pretty close. They’re business partners. The mob helps take care of anyone bad talking the Spiritualists. In return, the Spiritualists use their showmanship to help scare anyone in debt with the mob into paying up quicker.”

“Right, I’ve helped with one or two of those. The mob is a superstitious lot. It’s easy to convince them that ghosts of loved ones are urging them to pay their debts, that there’s a dark specter or something over them.”

C. C. nodded. “From what I gathered, Bennett is trying to align his and Somerton’s businesses more closely. Bennett knows how to be a gracious host, though and is known to host meetings at the brothel. If I can get pictures and audio of the meeting, there’s gonna be enough dirt on half the businessmen in the city to cause a shitstorm.”

Goldsworth nodded. “Makes sense. How do you plan on getting close enough to them, though?”

“That’s where my plan meets a hiccup. Ideally, I would go undercover as a working boy and cozy up to one of them. That won’t fly, though. I don’t exactly have the  _ look, _ if you catch my meaning.”

Ricky chuckled. “At least you realize it, nose.”

“It’s going to be a business meeting, though. Maybe I could disguise myself and go in as a possible investor.”

“That might could work. I’m coming too.”

Tinsley’s brows knit together. “Why? What will you do?”

“Help your cover. You may not have the look, but you and I both know I do. I can look like I’m trying to distract you, like you’re not listening very closely, and they’ll barely notice you.”

The box where C. C. compartmentalized his thoughts about Ricky threatened to fall off the shelf.

“They’ll see your face, though.”

“I think I can distract them enough with other parts of me, and if I focus on you all night, they’ll hardly notice me.”

The box fell, and C. C. was almost overwhelmed with imagining Ricky in his lap, kissing his neck. He quickly shut it back up, though. “That might work. If you really want to do that?”

“Of course I do, can’t let you have all the fun, can I?”

Tinsley smiled. “I’ll meet you here tomorrow, then. Eight PM sharp. Wear something pretty.”

Ricky stood and stepped into C. C.’s space. “Don’t I always?” he asked in a low, husky voice. 

C. C. looked down at this odd man and tried to control his breathing. “I hope you won’t be wearing quite as many layers.”

Goldsworth placed his fingertips on C. C.’s chest and walked them up to his collarbone. “I see, you wanna see me naked, gumshoe?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

C. C. didn’t have an answer for that, and he felt himself melt against the smaller man’s hand where it was starting to caress his chest. 

“Tell me something, C. C. Are you gonna be able to handle me tomorrow night? Or should we go ahead and get this out of your… system?” He trailed a hand down to Tinsley’s waist, fingers slowly working under the waistband of his pants, and Tinsley finally pulled back. 

“See you here tomorrow,” he said hoarsely. 

Goldsworth seemed surprised, but stepped back and walked towards the door. “Don’t wear too hideous of a disguise,” he called over his shoulder. 

As soon as the smaller man left, C. C. collapsed in one of his chairs, trying to catch his breath. “That man is gonna be the death of me,” he murmured to himself, running a hand through his already messy hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this! The smut is coming next chapter, so be warned!


	3. Undercover Work and its Perks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first time writing smut, so you've been warned!
> 
> This chapter is as long as the first two put together, but there was no good place to break it, so, yeah.

A knock startled C. C. from his mirror where he was finishing putting the red wig on. “Come in.” He checked his watch. Ricky was five minutes early.

He looked up, and saw Ricky in a trench coat step in. “You’re wearing clothes under there, right?”

“Don’t sound so disappointed.” Ricky pulled the trench coat off, and Tinsley felt his jaw threaten to hit the floor.

Ricky was wearing a thin white v-neck shirt, and Tinsley could see the curve of his muscles and the bumps of his nipples. His pants were tight to his form and black, accentuating his trim waist and hips. The knees were ripped, and his golden brown skin was visible. 

After a long moment, Tinsley finally was able to speak again. “That’ll work,” he said finally. 

There was amusement in Ricky’s dark eyes, and he stepped into C. C.’s space. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

TJ had helped him with the fake ginger wig and beard that obscured some of his facial features. 

“I prefer brunettes, though,” Ricky said huskily, running his hand through the wig.

“Be careful, don’t want it to fall off.”

“How about I practice kissing you? We can make sure your beard doesn't come off, either.”

Tinsley wanted to argue, but the man pressed against his body seemed to have disconnected his tongue from his brain. Suddenly, he had a mouthful and armful of Ricky, and damn if it wasn’t everything he’d been wanting ever since he had sauntered into his office. His small, warm hands were in the wig, his tongue in his mouth, and he was pulling him down to get better access to his mouth. It was so much, but not nearly enough, but Tinsley didn’t have time for that. He pulled back and cleared his throat. “I think it’ll stay,” he said softly, not daring to try and use his voice any louder.

Ricky smirked, his chin a little pink from the friction of the fake beard. “Is that a camera in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” he asked, his voice deep and gravelly.

“Bit of both,” C. C. said smiling. “Here, before I forget.” He turned to his desk and held up a blonde wig and a case with dark green contacts. “Not much we can do to your face, but if we change your hair and eyes, you should be able to fly below the radar. Remember, don’t draw any attention to your face.”

Ricky nodded and took the objects from Tinsley’s hands. “Help me with the cap?”

C. C. helped him pull the cap over his dark curls, letting his fingers run through the sleek strands as he did. The man’s hair was soft against his calloused fingers. 

Goldsworth turned to the mirror and put the green contacts in. “Doesn’t the light hair look strange against my features? Not a lot of Hispanic-Asians with blond hair.”

C. C. thought for a moment. “I think it’ll distract from your facial features enough no one will really notice.” 

Ricky faced him, and he looked different with the green lenses in, but that edge of danger was still there. 

“I think that’ll work,” C. C. said softly. “Come here.”

Ricky stepped forward. “Want me to take care of that… camera?”

C. C. pulled out a tin of yellow cream. “This is for your eyebrows. Make them the same color as your hair. Hold still.”

He dipped his thumb in the cream and rubbed it along Ricky’s brow. The younger man’s face softened at the gentle contact. Tinsley rubbed the cream across his thin brow, making sure none of the black was still visible. Then he went to the other side, cupping Ricky’s cheek in his hand as he did. Once the black hair was coated in the stuff, they matched his wig almost exactly. C. C. didn’t quite move his hand, though, revelling in holding the beautiful young man’s face in his large hand. 

“You like this,” C. C. noted.

“You do too,” Ricky countered, but his voice was softer than normal. Not as rough around the edges. With his features softened and eyes wide, he almost looked like a different person. His high cheekbones caught the light in a way that gave his gold skin an almost ethereal glow. 

“You’re… beautiful,” C. C. said softly.

“Thanks,” Ricky said. “Are you gonna kiss me or do I need to do it myself?”

This kiss was softer than the first. Less testing, more learning, finding out what each other tasted like, what they felt like, memorizing the texture of their lips and finding out how to tilt their heads so their lips met _just right_. It was magical. Finally, C. C. pulled back. “We should get going. Don’t want to be late.”

Ricky nodded. “Right.” He was breathless.

\-----

The better part of an hour later, C. C. was sitting in a plush couch, holding a drink he’d been sipping on. He listened to Somerton and Bennett talking a couch over, his audio recorder strapped against his ankle. They were giving him some good information, enough he felt his friends on the force could use it to give the two men grief for a long time. He needed photos, though, and that was more difficult. Finally, Ricky made his appearance, draping himself over C. C.’s lap. 

“Heya, handsome.”

Tinsley smiled up at him, grabbing the smaller man’s waist and positioning him so that C. C. could pull out his camera and hide it between their bodies. 

Ricky leaned over and kissed along TInsley’s neck, and C. C. let himself relax into the contact, his hands holding his camera and taking a number of photos. “Think I’ve got enough,” Tinsley murmured into the younger man’s ear, and he laughed like Tinsley had said something flirty. 

“I think I’m being made,” he responded, breath hot against the shell of C. C.’s ear.

The detective let his gaze scan the room and he caught a man eyeing them suspiciously. He made to stand up, holding Ricky to his chest to hide his face, and Ricky kissed his neck to cover it. “Think we need a bit of privacy,” he said to the businessmen around him, but most of them were too distracted by other young, beautiful men. 

Ricky led him down a hallway and into a room with a large, plushly made bed. 

“Is this room bugged?” Ricky asked.

“No, you can get off of me.”

“Are you sure?”

C. C. scoffed. “Do you know how much trouble Bennett would be in if word got out he has that kind of videos against patrons? It’d be enough to get a hit called out on him.”

Ricky seemed to buy this, but he still clung to Tinsley. “How long do you think we should stay back here? Ten minutes?”

C. C. chuckled. “I’m almost insulted.”

“Hmm, no offense meant, handsome.”

“You really don’t have to… mmph.” He cut himself off when Ricky’s hand hovered between his long legs. “You don’t…”

“What if I want to?”

C. C. pulled back from the smaller man. “Ricky, you don’t.”

“Why do you say that? I know what I want, and I want to climb you like a damn tree.” He pushed C. C. back against the door and worked his hands under his shirt. “Don’t say you don’t want me. I saw the way you saw me when I first walked into your office.” 

“I do. _Fuck,_ I do. But why in hell would you want me?”

“I’ve always had a thing for tall guys, what can I say? Now please, _please_ , put your hand down my pants or I’m gonna lose my _mind_.” 

“Ricky, I can’t… I can’t just do this with you and then pretend it didn’t happen, okay? Please, don’t make me do this and then ignore it.”

Ricky pulled back and met his eyes. “I hope you don’t think so little of me,” he said with that dangerous smile, and it made C. C.’s stomach flip. “Of course I know you can’t do that. I don’t want that.”

C. C. nodded and led Ricky to the plush bed, pushing him down on top of it and straddling his legs. “In that case,” he said in a deep, soft voice before kissing along Ricky’s neck.

Ricky’s hips jerked off the bed. “ _Please_ , C. C.”

“Hmm, you’re talkative in bed. I should have known.”

The smaller man’s hips bucked, trying to find friction, and Tinsley gripped them tightly to keep them from moving. “Patience. I’m gonna enjoy this. Enjoy taking you apart underneath me.”

Ricky shivered. “You get twenty time hotter on top of me, you know, handsome?”

C. C. grinned. “Flattery will get you everywhere.” He grabbed the hem of the thin white t-shirt and pulled it off of the younger man. 

He kissed his lips, this kiss more passionate and more heat than any before. It was a rush of lips and teeth and tongue, but it made fireworks go off behind C. C.’s eyelids. Ricky’s soft lips and clever tongue seemed to be working together to pull him apart at the seams. 

Tinsley traced his long fingers down Ricky’s sides, searching for a sensitive spot to exploit. His wish was granted when his fingertips scanned over Ricky’s nipples. This movement was greeted by the younger man’s sharp gasp and a jerk of his hips. 

“Hmm, you like that?”

Ricky nodded. “What are you gonna do about it?”

C. C. smirked and moved down to Ricky’s chest, licking around his left nipple. Goldsworth’s hands moved to tangle in C. C.’s hair, but the older man pulled up. “Still wearing a wig, remember?”

“What do you suggest I grab, then?” he asked breathlessly.

Tinsley smiled almost evilly and used one large hand to hold both of Ricky’s over his head. “Nothing. I’m gonna hold you down. You like that, don’t you?”

Ricky just nodded. C. C. noted with some pride how blown the man’s pupils were, and how quick his pulse was in his wrists. 

Moving back to his chest, C. C. focused on Ricky’s right nipple, closing his mouth around it and revelling in the gasp the movement elicited. He scraped his teeth across the nub softly, and thought that Ricky was going to try and buck him off.

“Shit, Tinsley,” he moaned softly. 

The detective sat up and inched up Ricky’s body. “Do you trust me?” he asked huskily.

Ricky nodded, brow knit in confusion that faded when Tinsley pulled off his tie and leaned over to Ricky’s hands. He tied his wrists together with his tie. Loose enough it didn’t hurt, but tight enough he could feel the pressure. “Hmm. Kinky,” he said, but there was no heat behind the words.

“You love it.”

“Damn straight.”

C. C. smiled and brushed a kiss to RIcky’s lips on his way back down to his waistband, and he unfastened the jeans, pulling them off. 

“Hmm. No underwear. Now who’s kinky?”

Sure enough, Ricky’s dick had been exposed once the pants were gone. C. C. practically salivated at the sight of the hard, thick length. 

“Thought I would save us some time,” Goldsworth said in what was clearly supposed to be a level voice, but actually came out strained. 

C. C. looked up to see a beautiful flush taking over Ricky’s face and spreading down his neck. “Damn,” he said softly. “You should see you right now.”

“I can.”

C. C. frowned in confusion and followed Ricky’s gaze up to see - _mirrors?_ “What kind of freaks designed this room?”

“My kind of freaks,” Ricky said with a smirk. “You’re right though, I look _good._ ”

Tinsley chuckled. “Damn straight.” He leaned over and licked along the younger man’s dick, causing a full body shudder. He wrapped his fingers around the length of it and started stroking slowly, not giving Ricky the friction he craved.

“ _Tinsley_ , fuck.”

“Are you begging me, Ricky?”

“If that’s what I have to do.”

C. C. seemed to consider this. “Okay then. Beg.”

Ricky met his eyes. “C. C. Tinsley. _Please_. I am begging you. Close those stupidly long fingers around my cock and make me finally cum, I think my damn brain gonna melt if I’m this hard for much longer.”

C. C.’s eyes fluttered shut and he took a deep breath. “Okay. Help me out first.” He leaned up and held his hand up to Ricky’s lips. 

The younger man seemed to get the idea, and his clever tongue flicked out and danced across C. C.’s fingers, coating them in his saliva. He took Tinsley’s index finger and pulled it into his mouth, sucking it all the way in, and maintaining intense eye contact the whole time. 

Tinsley felt his own dick strain in his pants at the sight, but worked hard to keep his breathing under control. “Good boy.” He pulled his hand down and closed his fingers around Ricky, his other hand reaching down to cup his balls. He started stroking the younger man in earnest. 

Ricky’s eyes closed and he threw his head back, groaning at the sensation.

“Ricky, open your eyes. I want you to watch yourself as I take you apart.”

Ricky did as he was told and looked at the mirror above them, making a whining noise deep in his throat at the sight. 

C. C. focused on his hands tugging and fondling and stroking and rubbing, occasionally looking up to gauge the response to a certain stimulus. 

After just a couple minutes of this, Ricky groaned loudly. “C. C., I’m gonna-”

“Go ahead,” the older man said, not letting up on his efforts. 

Ricky’s hips jerked and he groaned out something that sounded suspiciously like “Tinsley!” as he came hard in Tinsley’s hands. The force of the orgasm knocked the breath from his lungs, and he had to lie still for a moment trying to catch it again. “Take this tie off of me, would you?”

Tinsley obliged, and Ricky’s hand went down to the drying pool on his stomach, running his fingers through it before sticking them in his mouth, tasting himself.

“Fuck,” Tinsley gasped as he watched. 

“My turn,” Ricky said with a smirk. He sat up and pushed C. C.’s blazer off of his shoulders. “Not fair that you stayed fully dressed. I’m gonna have to fix that.” He threw the blazer in the floor and started to unbutton Tinsley’s collared shirt, sitting on his knees to kiss him as he worked. Tinsley cupped Ricky’s ass and squeezed slightly as they kissed. 

Once he finished unbuttoning the shirt, he pushed it off of the taller man’s narrow shoulders and quickly pulled the undershirt off along with it. After just a few brisk seconds, Tinsley was on his back and Ricky was pulling his pants and the audio recorder from his ankle and his undershorts off. “Gonna take good care of you, big guy,” he murmured as he undressed Tinsley. 

“What are you gonna do?” the detective asked hoarsely.

“I’m gonna make you see stars,” Ricky said, and Tinsley realized that what he had come to think of as Goldsworth’s “predator grin” had nothing on what the man’s face was capable of. The smile had humor in it, which made the sharp white teeth somehow even more frightening. He looked like he was going to eat C. C. alive. 

Tinsley decided then and there that there were worse ways to go. 

Without any further ado, Ricky closed his mouth along C. C.’s long dick, and Tinsley definitely saw stars. 

“Holy _shit_ , give a man some warning!” He said once he caught his breath. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Ricky’s eyes seemed to say as he took even _more_ of Tinsley into his mouth.

“If you get all of this in that pretty mouth, I’m gonna be duly impressed.” The declaration had to be separated between phrases by Tinsley taking a shaky breath. 

It seemed to urge Ricky on even more, though, because almost as soon as C. C. had spoken, Goldsworth had his lips around the base of Tinsley’s length. 

“ _Fuck,_ Ricky,” he groaned. He gripped the bedsheets in tight fists, trying not to jerk his hips. But then, RIcky’s hands closed around C. C.’s waist and he pushed and pulled them until TInsley got the memo. “You- you want me to fuck your throat?” he asked incredulously.

Ricky hummed his assent, and the vibration made TInsley moan. “Okay, okay, squeeze my hip if you need me to slow, okay?”

Ricky hummed again and C. C. started slowly, shallowly. It was more of a wiggle of his hips if he were to be honest. Ricky looked up to meet his eyes and gave him a face that seemed to say “get on with it, then.”

Tinsley nodded and started speeding up, more and more of him leaving Ricky’s mouth before going back in. 

Ricky kept humming, making delicious noises that pulled out some of Tinsley’s own sounds from his own throat. 

After what had to have been the most intense moments of C. C.’s life, he felt that telltale pool of heat settle in his groin. “Ricky- Ricky, come off, I’m about to go-”

But Ricky’s mouth stubbornly stayed closed around C. C., and _damn_.

The orgasm hit like a ton of bricks, and Tinsley watched himself in the mirrors above the bed. He may not be the most conventionally attractive person, but he decided that right there, lying on his back on this lavish bed, with this beautiful creature’s lips around him… This was the most attractive he would ever be. And that suited him just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should have the next chapters up soon! I hope you're enjoying this so far! I know I am


	4. No Good Deed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ricky’s past is catching up to him, and C. C.’s present is coming for them, too.

“Hey there,” C. C. said to Ricky as the smaller man burst into his office. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you. Are you okay?” he asked when he saw the concern on his face. 

“No. We’ve gotta get out of here, Tinsley, we’ve fucked up.”

——-

After their “private session,” Tinsley and Goldsworth had made their way back to the meeting, and luckily, the man that had been looking Ricky over was distracted by that point. Tinsley managed to covertly take photos of more of the men and made his leave, Ricky not far behind. 

They met back up in the alley behind the building and started for C. C.’s office. They didn’t speak until they were inside with the door closed behind them. The Private Investigator sighed and pulled off the fake beard and the wig. “I hate fake beards, they’re so itchy,” he said softly, scratching his chin. 

Ricky took off his wig and was taking out the contacts. “I wasn’t a fan of that beard either, for the record,” he quipped. 

“You weren’t complaining earlier,” C. C. noted as he took the recorder out of the pocket he’d tucked it into once they got to the back room. He placed it on the desk and rewound the tape to listen to the conversation. 

Ricky slumped in one of the client chairs across the desk from C. C., kicking his feet up on the other chair and closing his eyes, listening closely to the recording. 

They heard Somerton and Bennett’s voices, somewhat muffled by the pant leg that covered the mic, but clear enough to make out most of the conversation. It was clear they were working together closely. “This should be enough to at least have them look into Somerton as an accessory,” Tinsley said softly, still listening to the recording. 

Goldsworth nodded. 

The tape got to the point where they left, and C. C. turned it off. “I’ll cut that part off before I turn this in to the authorities,” he said, almost sheepishly. He then pulled out the camera. “I’ll have to develop these tomorrow, and I’ll take all of this to the police tomorrow afternoon.”

Ricky nodded again and stood, stretching his arms over his head. The movement pulled the hem of his shirt up, exposing his toned stomach. The sight of it brought heating to C. C.’s face and he looked down to his desk quickly. 

Goldsworth had seen it, though. “So… take this to the police, it’ll be enough dirt to finally bring down the brothel, and also to have them look into Somerton as well?”

Tinsley nodded, still not looking up from his desk. “Yeah, that should be enough of a shut show for you to make your great escape.” He said the last phrase with the barest hint of bitterness. 

Ricky walked around the desk and leaned against it, his legs brushing against Tinsley’s. “I have to say, I’m glad I went with you. Are you?”

Tinsley swallowed and looked up to meet the younger man’s eyes. “Yes,” he said softly. “But now you’re leaving.”

“So come with me. You can start up your business somewhere else. I hear Chicago is nice this time of year.” 

Tinsley shook his head. “You’re just saying that. You’re going to be gone by the day after tomorrow.”

The younger man just shrugged and leaned down, his face coming close to the detective’s. “Do you not want to come with me?” he asked in a low voice. 

“It’s late,” Tinsley said in response, shifting his weight to stand from his desk chair. 

He was blocked from standing, though, by Ricky’s hands on each arm of the chair, effectively trapping him. 

“Move,” he said, but there was no force behind it. 

“You don’t really want that, do you?”

Tinsley stayed silent, looking in Ricky’s eyes, seeing that sliver of danger that sent a thrill down his spine. 

The younger man pressed his forehead to C. C.’s. “I’m going to kiss you now. Then you can tell me if you want me to leave.” He waited a moment, but Tinsley didn’t protest. 

He made good on his word and kissed Tinsley. It was relatively chaste, obviously designed to make the taller man want more. 

“Do you want me to leave?” Ricky asked, his voice the barest whisper. 

“Of course I don’t,” Tinsley said. “But it would be better for me if you did. I slipped up tonight. Let myself forget the end goal of our meeting, for you to get the hell away from here.”

“What are you saying, gumshoe?”

“That I was weak. I don’t regret it, but I should. I want you to stay with me. You have to leave, though.”

“You know what? It’s late. Let’s deal with tomorrow’s problems tomorrow, alright, Tinsley?” He kissed him again briefly. “For now, I have other plans. Think you can keep up, old-timer?”

“I can try,” he said, pulling Ricky into his lap and kissing at his neck.

“Excellent, because I’ve been wanting to do this all night.” He tangled his fingers in Tinsley’s long dark hair. “That stupid wig can burn for all I care.”

——-

Tinsley walked into the LAPD and dropped the pile he was holding on the desk of his friend, Detective Velasquez. 

“Good afternoon to you too, Tinsley. Always a pleasure,” he said drily. “What the hell is this?”

“Christmas present from me to you. It’s a bit early, but I think you’ll still appreciate the sentiment.” He folded his long limbs into a chair beside the detective’s desk. “Take a look.”

Velasquez raised an eyebrow, but opened the file. “Holy- you got photographic evidence putting Bennett and Somerton both in an illegal brothel?” He didn’t even bother keeping the excitement from his voice. 

“That’s not all,” C. C. said brightly, pulling the tape from his coat pocket. “There’s also a number of high-and-mightys in these photos. I know you’ve been trying to bring this prostitution ring down for some time, so here’s a number of people to investigate for it, and Bennett and Somerton discussing business. Didn’t make much sense to me, but the gist is clear: they’re in cahoots.”

The police detective smiled widely. “Tinsley, I could  _ kiss  _ you, even though you just said the word ‘cahoots’!”

“I appreciate the sentiment, Curly. I just need you to cause as much trouble for Somerton and Bennett for the next few days as you can in return. Deal?”

Velasquez’s face fell at this. “Right, C. C., I gotta level with you. I’ve heard you’ve been around Ricky Goldsworth.”

Tinsley raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? And…?”

“And…” he pulled a file from a pile on his desk and handed it to Tinsley. “Don’t tell anyone I let you see this,” he said seriously. 

The private eye was taken aback a little bit by the tone of his friend’s voice. He opened the file, and felt his stomach lurch. 

In the file, a photo of a familiar face smirked up at him in what was undeniably a mugshot. “Oh, no,” he said softly, as he flipped through the file. “‘Aggravated assault, breaking and entering, attempted murder,’ oh, no.” 

“I’m sorry, man, I had to let you know. He’s got warrants out for him up in San Francisco.”

Tinsley nodded slowly, eyes wide and mind reeling at this new information. “Well, he’s getting out of town. I don’t know where he’s staying. But if I see him, I’ll try to detain him.”

Detective Velasquez nodded and took the file back. “Thank you, C. C. We miss you around here, y’know? Ever gonna give up on retirement? I’m sure the captain would give you back your badge without much complaint.”

Tinsley just shook his head, giving a half smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “I don’t think so, but thanks, Curly. I’ll see you around.” He left the department and lit up a cigarette, smoking as he walked. 

“Shit,” he whispered to himself. “Shit, shit, shit.”

——-

“I don’t know how they know, but now that bounty that they’d planned on putting on me? It’s there and it’s even  _ bigger.  _ That’s not all though, they want your hide too.”

Ricky’s dark eyes were wide with nervousness, an expression Tinsley would have sworn he was incapable of feeling just minutes before. 

“Why should I trust you, Goldsworth?” He asked slowly. “I went to the LAPD yesterday. You’ll never guess what I saw.”

Ricky’s face fell. “Look, Tinsley, I can explain, I  _ swear  _ but right now we’ve gotta get the  _ hell  _ outta Dodge. Somerton and Bennett aren’t in for questioning right now so we’re in big, big trouble.” He ran over to Tinsley’s side. “Come on, man, you have to believe me.” 

“Why did you come tell me?” C. C. asked coolly. “Do you plan on turning me in for the reward, and hope they’ll let you go in return?”

“ _ No _ ! Fuck, no. I want you to get out of the damn town with me. I’ll level with you as soon as we’re gone, okay? But right now I need you to come with me.” 

Tinsley shook his head. “How the hell would they know it was us? Unless you told them and are conspiring against me.”

Ricky rubbed a hand over his face. “C. C. Trust me or don’t. Up to you. But I want you to come with me because you’re a  _ good man.  _ I’ve not met many of those, and the last one I met I was accused of trying to murder. I’m not going to let you die, too.”

Before Tinsley could say anything about this development, TJ ran in. “C. C.! There’s guys outside with guns, I don’t know what they’re here for, but I get a feeling you should get gone,  _ now. _ ”

Tinsley’s eyes went wide as he realized what TJ was saying, and he looked up at Ricky. 

_ I told you so, _ his eyes seemed to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you’re having as much fun as I am! I have no clue when the next chapter will be up, so stay tuned and please be patient with me


	5. Thrill of the Chase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ricky and C. C. are on the run, and Tinsley has to decide who he trusts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s see how many Unsolved references Mac can fit into one chapter. Spoiler: It’s a lot.

Tinsley practically jumped out of his desk chair and ran to the closet in his office. He pulled out a canvas bag and handed it to TJ. 

TJ looked in it and saw a tin of cash almost covered by a police uniform. He looked up at his friend, brow furrowed in confusion. 

“I’ve been expecting something like this for a while now. The money should take care of you and your family for some time until you can find a new job. There’s a letter of recommendation in there from me, too. Try at the LAPD, they’re always looking for people that can actually handle paperwork. If anyone stops you, you’re returning this uniform to the police that I’d borrowed and you haven’t seen me all day.”

TJ was almost shocked. “C. C., you don’t-“

“Of course I do. Otherwise your wife would kill us both. I’ll get word to you once I’m safe, okay? You’ll be fine, but you can’t have any more connection to me for your sake and that of your family. Give my love to your wife. It’s been a good time working with you.”

TJ finally nodded. “Thank you, C. C. Really. This means a lot. Take care of yourself out there, okay?”

Tinsley smiled at his friend and clapped him on his shoulder. “I’ll try. Now get out of here, take the stairs in Mrs. Sodder’s office down the hall, they won’t know about them. Don’t run, don’t draw attention to yourself.  _ Go. _ ”

TJ turned and left, and C. C. looked over to see Ricky grinning. “What’s that look about?”

“I knew you were a good guy,” was all the answer he gave. “Now please tell me you’ve got some weapons around here somewhere.”

The detective smiled slyly and pulled out a few boxes from the closet. He took a pistol and shoulder holster from one and put it on, and handed the other pistol to Ricky. Goldsworth took it, nodding. “Thanks. Extra mags?”

Tinsley passed over a few already loaded mags. “Always prepared,” he said. 

“Shoulda known you were a Boy Scout.”

“Yeah, well, they didn’t teach me much about firefights, so I’m not sure how happy you should be about that fact.” He pulled more magazines and stuck them in his holster. “Luckily, I know this building like the back of my hand. They’ll have the elevator and main stairs locked down, and I don’t want to take the same stairs that TJ did, too many civilians.”

“What does that leave?” Ricky asked. 

“Fire escape. That way we can also see if anyone’s waiting for us at the bottom.”

Ricky frowned. “Bad time to say I’m afraid of heights?” 

Someone rapped at the door, and Tinsley ran to open the window. “Yup.”

He had slid through the window and pulled Ricky through behind him when shots fired through his door. They ducked under the windowsill and Tinsley counted shots. “Six. Sounds like a revolver. Be glad mobsters have a sense for aesthetics.”

“Always. Kiss for luck?” 

Tinsley smiled, and for a moment allowed himself to forget the knowledge he gained about Ricky that morning. “Can’t hurt.” He quickly pressed his lips against Goldsworth’s. “Now let’s move.” 

They went down the fire escape as quickly as they could. C. C. heard something and looked up to see a head stick out of his window, looking down at them. There were a few flights worth of wire landings between them so he couldn’t shoot at them. “I really regret getting the fourth floor office. This would have been so much easier from the first floor,” he muttered. 

Ricky barked a laugh. “Just one more flight.” 

Once they hit the pavement, though, a large black car parked in front of them and men with large guns stepped out. 

“Oh, shit,” Goldsworth muttered. 

“They have guns!” Tinsley yelled loudly, and hysteria broke out on the crowded street. In the chaos, he grabbed Ricky’s elbow and dragged him down an alley and through a dark door. 

“Where are we?” Ricky asked quietly, still being dragged down what felt like a hallway by his arm. 

“A friend’s.” They burst into an empty kitchen and kept running. “This will get us to the street on the opposite side of my building. Remind me to send Miss von Emster an apology note for borrowing her restaurant if we survive this.”

Ricky didn’t have time to answer before they heard loud footsteps behind them. “Shit.”

“My thoughts exactly,” C. C. muttered. 

Ricky turned to see a man raise to aim his gun at C. C., and he pulled his gun and shot him in the shoulder twice, effectively stopping all the other figures behind him in the narrow doorway. “Faster,” Ricky exclaimed, and they ran out the front door and crossed the busy street. 

As soon as the dark coated men exited the building, C. C. repeated his call from the other street, inciting panic there, too. 

“We have to get to my apartment,” Tinsley said, pulling Ricky down into the underground train station. 

“LA has a metro?” he asked, confused. 

“Yeah, it was created in 1916. Hurry!” They made it to the bottom of the stairs and Tinsley pulled out a badge, flashing it at the ticket-checkers as he and Ricky ran past, squeezing onto an almost empty car just as the door closed. 

“Wait, you have a  _ badge? _ ”

Tinsley smiled, sitting on an uncomfortable chair, and he tossed the badge to Ricky. 

The smaller man caught it and looked at it closely before passing it back as he crashed into the seat beside the detective. “Where did you get a real badge?”

“Pick pocketed it from a friend. It’s a running joke we have. He claims I’m not as good a pickpocket as I think I am.” He held the badge up triumphantly before returning it to his pocket. “I think this proves I am. Add him to my apology list, by the way.”

Ricky laughed at the man beside him and put his hand on his sloped shoulder. “I wish I’d known you were so handy to have during a chase. Only had to shoot one person! And no one fired at us!”

Tinsley frowned and watched the tunnel lights fly past. “They’re going to have people stationed outside my home, though. But I have to get in there, all my money and papers are there. We need to go by your place, too.”

Ricky shook his head. “I kept my emergency stuff in a locker at the train station as soon as I heard about the first bounty. Just need your things and then we can go get two tickets to anywhere but here.” 

Tinsley nodded and put his arm around Ricky, still high from the excitement of the chase. He knew they had to talk about the warrant out on him. Knew he couldn’t really trust this man. 

He also knew that Ricky had no reason to come get him. Knew he risked his own life by stopping for him before fleeing. Knew that Ricky had bought them time in the restaurant by shooting one of their assailants. 

He pressed a kiss into the curls at Ricky’s temple. “You’re going to tell me everything about that warrant. But for now, we’re going to get out of this city. Together.”

Ricky looked so different from the dark, dangerous stranger that had sauntered into his office barely a week prior. The dangerous glint in his eyes was instead a soft warmth, and a genuine smile tugged at his full lips. 

_ We’re a team now. Is that good or bad, though? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for any typos or errors in this, I typed it on my phone in a car battling a mild nausea while Michael Scott’s The Alchemyst was playing in the background. Which is to say that today has been a Lot and I hope my writing didn’t suffer from it.


	6. Friends in Low Places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ricky and C. C. are trying to make their great escape, but have to face off against a number of armed assailants before they can do that. Luckily, C. C. knows a guy. And a lady.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, my mom's a nurse, but I personally have 0 medical knowledge aside from some cursory Googling, so any medical errors are mine and should be ignored as much as possible.

Tinsley and Goldsworth sat in the cafe across from C. C.’s apartment building. To any casual observer, they looked like two friends enjoying a coffee. They were actually observing the building and trying to tell if anyone else was doing the same.

“Man in the dark coat on the bench at your five o’clock,” Tinsley said quietly.

Ricky looked over his shoulder nonchalantly. “What about him?”

“He’s barely moved from that spot since we got here.”

“Yeah, he’s reading the paper.”

“No he’s not. We’ve been here twenty minutes and he hasn’t turned the page. No way the comics are that engrossing. No, he’s watching the crowd. My guess is that coat is hiding a pistol, and also that he’s got friends somewhere close by.”

Ricky looked impressed and smiled. “You’re pretty good at this, aren’t you, gumshoe?”

“It’s my job,” C. C. said flatly, ignoring the sultry look in his companion’s eyes. “I’m working on a plan. Keep an eye on the third window up and second to the right, let me know if you see any movement.”

“What are you doing?”

Tinsley stood, adjusting the lapels of his sports coat. “I’m going to talk to a friend. Back in a few.”

\-----

Tinsley returned to the table ten minutes later to find it empty. He sighed. “Go figure.”

“Hey, there you are,” said a voice behind him. He turned to see the short form of Ricky Goldsworth. “I saw someone walking around in your window earlier, but had to use the restroom.”

“I thought you’d left,” C. C. confessed, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. 

“Why would I leave the best person to be on a foot chase in this city with? Have you got a plan yet?”

“Yup. You’re not going to like it, though.”

Ten minutes later, Ricky looked up at C. C., raising an eyebrow sharply. “This is not a plan, Tinsley.” 

“I told you you wouldn’t like it. But do you have any better ideas?”

Ricky groaned softly. “Not really. If we survive this, though, you owe me big time.” He stood on his tiptoes and kissed C. C. roughly. “ _ Big time. _ ” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” C. C. joked, dragging Ricky out of the alleyway they were hiding in and towards the back door of C. C.’s apartment. Luckily it was unlocked and they could get in and go up to Tinsley’s apartment. “Keep quiet and your gun on hand. There’s probably another lookout close by.”

Ricky nodded, checking their six occasionally on the stairwell. “I have to say, Tinsley, today’s the most fun I’ve had in awhile.”

“Yeah, well, we’ve still gotta have that talk, y’know.”

“Don’t worry, I’m fully aware. Let’s just get out of here in one piece, first. I can’t believe your plan is to just sneak in and  _ hope _ they don’t see us.”

“If you’ve got a better idea, I’m all ears.”

They reached the third floor and C. C. opened the door a little bit, peering through. “Coast is clear.” He led Ricky towards his door, the smaller man checking behind them. When they reached the door, Tinsley waved Ricky to stand to the left of it while he stood to the right, pulling out his pistol.

TInsley raised three fingers and counted them down. When he reached one, he kicked the door down, his gun raised, with Ricky right behind him. C. C. shot the man rummaging through his desk in the shoulder while Goldsworth shot the one at the filing cabinet in the right side of his chest. Tinsley turned to Ricky and pointed to the hallway of his apartment.  _ Check the back _ , he mouthed, and the smaller man nodded. 

The detective went to his desk to gather any papers he didn’t want getting into their enemies hands when he heard gunshots. Without thinking, he ran down the hallway. “Ricky!” He found Ricky standing over another thug. 

“You good, man?”

Ricky nodded, but C. C. noted he was clutching his arm. 

“Oh, shit. You’re gonna be fine. Sit on the couch, I just need a minute.”

“You’d better be quick, he was signaling out the window. We’re gonna have company soon.”

Tinsley grabbed a suitcase from his closet and threw in clothes and the money box from his sock drawer - he had never trusted banks, done too many jobs for too many owners. Then he stuffed the papers he had grabbed from the desk and his spare pistol in the bag, unloaded to protect against an accidental misfire. A few more odds and ends he thought he might need given that he was going to be gone for an indeterminate amount of time, and he slung his bag over his shoulder and rushed back to his living room.

Ricky wasn’t looking good. His normal golden-brown skin tone was turning a sickly pallor, and C. C. pulled him over his shoulders by his good arm. “Come on, Ricky. Don’t give up on me yet. I’m not going to let you die on my couch.” Goldsworth allowed himself to be pulled down the hallway to the elevator. “They’ll be expecting that, won’t they?” he asked hoarsely.

“Maybe, but there’s no way I can get you down all these stairs.” The elevator arrived and C. C. pulled Ricky in and punched the button for the first floor. He leaned over and set Ricky on the floor before standing beside the door on the other side, covered by the wall next to the sliding door, and readying his gun. “Stay down,” he said intensely. “If anyone’s waiting for us, I’ll shoot them, then I’ll get you up and we’ll get out of here. I’ve got someone waiting in a car for us.”

“Do you… Do you happen to have a doctor friend we can see on our way to the station?”

“Yeah, I do. Don’t worry, Goldsworth, I won’t let you die before I get an explanation out of you.”

“How heartwarming,” he coughed.

The door slid open and Tinsley peered out, but the lobby was empty. He noted the doorman taking cover under the front desk, though.  _ They won’t have left the lobby empty, _ he thought. Waving at Ricky to  _ stay _ , he spun out of the elevator, gun at the ready, and came face-to-face with a suited man holding a Tommy gun. Before the thug could react, C. C. shot him twice in the chest and went back to the elevator to get Goldsworth. “Come on, man, up we go. Just a little ways further.”

Ricky did his best to stand, but he was getting lightheaded with blood loss. “Maybe you… maybe you should just leave me. Maybe this is just fate getting back at me for what I’ve done.”

“Maybe you should shut your pretty little mouth and come  _ on. _ ” 

Goldsworth had the presence of mind to be impressed by Tinsley’s ability to drag him along easily, even supporting a large proportion of his body weight. “Stronger than you look,” he murmured.

Tinsley ignored him and pulled him through the door and into the street. The private eye opened the back door of a dark sedan and poured Goldsworth into the back seat before running around to get in on the driver’s side. “We’ve gotta stop by Devon’s,” he said to the driver as he pulled off Ricky’s jacket to inspect the wound. 

The man in the front nodded and started driving.

“How bad’s it look, doc?” Ricky asked, his voice quiet.

“It went through and through, which means a lot of blood, but we won’t have to dig out the bullet.”

“I’m sending you the bill for the upholstery,” the driver yelled back.

“This isn’t the worst thing on this back seat and you know it,” C. C. replied, tearing at his white undershirt and wrapping the strip tightly around the wound in Goldsworth’s left arm. “Don’t worry, once we get you stitched up and some food in you, you’ll be fine. Right now, the most concerning thing is any infection you might get in this old Doom Buggy.”

“I didn’t have to pick you up, you know,” the driver said sardonically.

“Well, now we’re even, so shut up and drive.”

“Friend of yours?” Goldsworth asked.

“Something like that,” C. C. responded. “I helped him out pro bono. Put his sister’s abusive husband in jail.”

“I assume he’s who you called when we were at the cafe.”

“Yeah. Just hang on a few minutes. Don’t fall asleep, Ricky. Stay with me.” He cupped the smaller man’s chin in his large hand, getting some blood on his neck. “Hey, Goldsworth, I’m not through with you yet. Hang in there. You’re too stubborn for something like blood loss to get you.”

“I thought it would take longer for blood loss to kill me,” Ricky noted, voice soft and gravelly.

“Everyone does,” Tinsley said under his breath. “Punch it, Mark! Don’t stop for anyone!”

Luckily, they weren’t pursued, and they pulled into a nondescript looking parking lot. Tinsley climbed out and ran over to get Ricky. “Thanks, Mark, I’ll call you again when we need to get to the station.”

He pulled Goldsworth back over his shoulder and half led, half dragged him through the door. “Devon!” he shouted. “I need your help!”

A small blonde woman appeared and helped him with Ricky. “Holy shit, Ceece, what did you do to him?”

“I tried to save him, thank you very much. It was Betterton’s goons that did this to him. Through and through wound, not arterial, but bleeding a lot. I tried to apply pressure but it took me a few minutes, we were on a time crunch.”

“You know I like a challenge,” the woman said smiling grimly. She led them to a bed and helped him deposit Ricky on it. “I need to clean the wound. Go get the antiseptic and bandages. They’re the same place they were last time you got yourself shot.” 

Tinsley nodded and ran to the supply cabinet, coming back with an armful of supplies to see Devon removing Ricky’s clothes. Goldsworth’s dark eyes were only partially open, watching the scene in a way that made it clear his brain wasn’t completely online. 

“You’re gonna be alright,” the detective said, grabbing the smaller man’s right hand. “I promise. She’s gonna put you to sleep and stitch you up and you’ll be up and at ‘em in no time.”

Goldsworth nodded. “Kiss for luck?” He said softly, that seductive glint somehow still present in his tired eyes. 

“It can’t hurt,” Tinsley said, and he leaned forward to lightly press his lips to Ricky’s. “Now don’t die on me.”

Devon gave Goldsworth a syringe to his good arm, and his hand went slack in C. C.’s after a few seconds. 

He looked up at his friend. “What do you need me to do?”

\-----

Ricky woke up a while later in a strange place. He rubbed his eyes and noticed a weird weight on his left arm. Looking down, he noted a bandage wrapped thickly around his bicep, and the day came back to him in a rush. “C. C.?” he called, looking around. 

Tinsley walked in and sighed in relief when he saw him awake and conscious. “Hey, Ricky. Good to see you’re awake.”

“Where am I? Who was that woman? Whose shirt is this? How long was I out?”

The taller man chuckled, dragging a chair to the side of the bed to sit in, looking at Goldsworth. “Any other questions?”

“Yeah, can I get some food? I’m fucking  _ famished. _ ”

\-----

Ten minutes later, Ricky was eating a slice of pizza Tinsley had snuck from Devon’s fridge and was drinking water. 

“Devon is another old client of mine,” C. C. was saying. “This used to be her husband’s practice, but he was working for the mob. I helped get him put away. In return, she helps fix me up when I need it.”

“With your charming personality? I can’t believe anyone would want to shoot you.”

“Good to see your sarcasm is back in working order. We got you stitched up. She did most of the stitching, so blame her if it doesn’t hold. You’re wearing one of my undershirts, yours was covered in blood. It’s probably an ill fit but it’ll have to do. And you were only out for a few hours. It’s afternoon, now. We should be able to catch a train this evening.”

Goldsworth nodded, slowly eating the pizza and drinking. “Today could have gone an awful lot worse.”

“I’m fully aware of that,” Tinsley sighed. Ricky noticed how tired he looked. His hair was rumpled from constantly running his hands through it, and his face looked more worn than he’d ever seen it. 

“You look like shit, man, you should get some rest.”

The detective just laughed humorlessly. “I’m not gonna be able to relax until we’re out of this God-forsaken city. So.”

“So?”

“So why do you have a warrant out in San Francisco? Who do they think you tried to kill? And why do you say you’re innocent?”

Ricky finished the last of the pizza and drank some more of the water before responding. “You want to know?”

“I need to know if I can trust you.”

“Well, first, I’ve gotta piss. Where’s the bathroom?”


	7. Ghosts of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ricky finally tells C. C. about why he's got a warrant out on him, and hopes the detective won't leave him to the dogs over it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's right, I had to bring in ghosts. They had to appear somewhere. Sorry, I'm not sorry.

In the bathroom of the clinic, Ricky splashed water in his face, hoping to clear his head from the fog brought on by the blood loss. The undershirt he was wearing - C. C.’s shirt - was tight on his torso and a little too long. He looked at himself in the mirror for a moment, deciding on what to tell Tinsley.

_ The truth. But what if he doesn’t believe it? What if he decides to leave me behind in this wretched city? What if he turns me in? _

_ I’ll deserve it. _

Finally, he took a deep breath to steel himself and walked back to the room where the private eye was waiting. He sat on the bed and put his hands in his lap, looking down at them. 

Tinsley noticed, though, that the normal gleam in his eyes was gone. He was… frightened? Of C. C.? That couldn’t be right.

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

Tinsley blinked once. “Ghosts? What does that have to do with-”

“Just answer the question, gumshoe. Do you believe in ghosts?”

The detective decided to humor the man. “No, I don’t.” 

Ricky didn’t look surprised. “I didn’t think as much. I do, though. So did my partner. We were… detectives, of a sort.”

“You were a paranormal investigator?” C. C. asked incredulously.

“You could call it that. We would go to the houses of clients, find out if they were haunted, and try to get rid of the ghosts.”

“And how did you do that?”

“My partner, AJ, he was psychic. He would cleanse the houses. That’s what we were doing... “ Ricky trailed off, wringing his hands.

“Ricky, I need you to tell me the truth, not this horseshit.”

“I’m trying to tell you the truth!” He took a deep breath. “We were at a client’s place. There was something… bad. Something really bad there. We heard the stories about it attacking people, but we thought we would be safe.” Goldsworth looked up and met Tinsley’s eyes. “It attacked him. I tried to help, but it was going after AJ. It nearly killed him before I could get him out.”

“The authorities blamed you,” C. C. ventured.

“Yeah, and the client disavowed all knowledge. He claimed we must have broken in and gotten into an altercation. It was a bullshit attempt to cover his own ass, but he was a powerful guy. He couldn’t have people know he was hiring  _ psychics _ . The police weren’t about to buy my story, and I made a good scapegoat. I got in some trouble as a kid, and they didn’t exactly like me very much. Being able to lock me up for attempted murder  _ and  _ B and E was like Christmas came early.”

“But you got out of town,” Tinsley noted. 

“Yeah, after they released me from questioning with the whole ‘don’t leave town’ spiel.”

Tinsley shook his head. “I don’t… I don’t really know what to say.”

“Probably something along the lines of ‘fuck off’ and ‘you’re full of shit, Goldsworth’” the injured man said wryly, looking up to meet his companions eyes.

The detective leaned back in his chair and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it up. “Don’t tell Devon,” he murmured before taking a long drag. “I don’t believe in ghosts,” he said after a few moments. “But I don’t think you tried to kill that man. Call it a hunch. So I’m not gonna leave you to the wolves. I’m still bringing you with me.”

Ricky smiled widely. “I’m glad. You make good company.”

“You’re not bad yourself,” he said with a lopsided grin. “Devon’s gonna come back in a few minutes to check on the stitching and make sure you’re good to leave, then we’re gonna  _ finally _ get the Hell outta Dodge.”

“Where will we go?” 

Tinsley took a few draws on his cigarette. “I hear Chicago is nice this time of year.” 

Ricky laughed and threw a pillow at him, which the detective narrowly dodged. “You stole that from me you piece of shit!”

Tinsley put his hands up in surrender, laughing as well. “I’m an Illinois native, I’d like to get back home.”

“Chicago it is, then.” 

Devon stepped in, and C. C. scrambled to drop his cigarette and hide it under his shoe. 

“You’re not slick, Ceese,” she said without even looking at him. “How’s our patient feeling?” 

“Not bad. My arm doesn’t even hurt.”

“That’d be the pain meds. I gave you the good stuff.”

“Hey!” C. C. said indignantly. “You don’t give  _ me _ the good stuff!”

She shot him an exasperated glance. “If I gave you the good stuff every time you strolled in here bleeding, I’d run out of the good stuff.” 

“Good point,” he muttered. “How’s he looking, doc?”

Devon peeled the bandage off and examined the wound. “Bleeding has stopped, and the stitches seem to be holding. I’ll wrap it back up and give you a sling, you’ll be able to claim you broke a bone high in your arm but it’s mostly healed, just in case anyone asks.” She handed Ricky a sling and stood up, walking towards the door. “Go ahead and get dressed, I’ll put on a new bandage when you’re done. Can I talk to you, Ceese?”

Tinsley stood up and followed, patting Ricky on his good shoulder as he passed. “Back in a second,” he said with a wink.

As soon as C. C. stepped into the hallway, Devon practically accosted him. “Who the  _ hell _ is that guy? How do you know him? What’s going on with the two of you?” 

“Sheesh, Devon, one question at a time!” He leaned back against the wall of the hallway and crossed his long arms, having not been required to have this conversation yet. “He was a client. Then things… escalated.”

“You don’t say?” she said with heavy sarcasm.

Tinsley continued as though she hadn’t said anything. “He’s got a warrant out in San Francisco, and now a bounty on him here. He came to warn me that they wanted me, too. I could’ve been dead if he hadn’t come and told me.”

“Do you trust him?”

“I don’t know, Devon.” He rubbed a hand down his face. “I don’t know. But I think that he is innocent, and I want to help him. I’m not sure we can prove it, but I can at  _ least _ not let him get his ass arrested.”

Devon nodded slowly, looking at C. C. carefully. “Look, Ceese. I know you tend to get in trouble, so try your hardest to behave when you two split, okay? I’ll call my cousin in Chicago, she’s a doctor too. I get a feeling you’ll get to know her pretty well. I’m gonna go grab a new bandage for Ricky, okay?”

Tinsley nodded and went back into the room where Ricky was struggling with a button-up shirt. 

“Woah, buddy, need some help?”

Goldsworth looked up and nodded. “My arm’s kinda sore… can’t button…”

“Yeah, I understand. Come here.”

The smaller man stepped up to him, and Tinsley buttoned the shirt up. Maybe a bit slower than strictly necessary, but who was there to judge? Ricky’s body was warm under his fingers, and his breath was warm where it hit his shoulder, and C. C. felt warmth in his stomach at the close contact. They hadn’t been this close since the night they went undercover, aside from when they were running for their lives and then Ricky was bleeding out. 

“Enjoying yourself?” Ricky asked coyly, an eyebrow raised. C. C. noted that the glint was back in his dark eyes.

“What if I am?”

Ricky smiled and stepped ever closer to the taller man. “You’re supposed to be helping me get dressed, not stripping me, ya know?”

“I’m not-”

“You were thinking about it.”

Tinsley couldn’t argue that point. He didn’t regret it, though. The sight of Ricky borrowing one of his button-ups was a lot. The fabric pulled around his chest and the arms were a little long on him, so Tinsley helped roll the sleeves up for him. He pulled the left arm up over the stitches so that Devon could bandage him again. “There we are,” he said softly.

Ricky put his arms around Tinsley’s waist gently, as though afraid of scaring the detective away. “I know you don’t believe me. But I’m glad you still trust me.”

“I never said I trust you, Goldsworth. But I wanna keep you close.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He stood on his toes and leaned in to kiss C. C.

Until Devon walked in with a bandage. “Okay, let’s get you wrapped back up. Am I interrupting something? Too bad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, friends! Thanks for reading! Life's kinda nuts with school starting back so idk how often I'll be updating this. I'm only planning on another few chapters, but I'm also kind of considering making this a series. Any thoughts? This fic hasn't really gotten as much traction as my others. I'm hoping once it's completed it'll get more hits and kudos. 
> 
> Anyways, any thoughts are greatly appreciated bc idk wtf I'm doing, in case it isn't glaringly obvious.


	8. The Great Train Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ricky and C. C. finally get out of LA, and Tinsley does some introspection about his partner.
> 
> Also, bathroom smut. Because. Reasons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, IDK if there's ever been a train from LA to Chicago, but this is my damn world so I'm just gonna do as I damn well please. 
> 
> This chapter doesn't have as much action as previous chapters, but there is some smut. Again, this if my first fic with smut, so please bear that in mind.

Mark dropped the pair off at the train station and Ricky made a beeline for the lockers to grab his duffel bag. 

“Everything’s still here. That’d be pretty shitty if it weren’t.”

“Yeah, it would. Come on, let’s go get in line for tickets.” C. C. kept looking over his shoulder, trying to make himself appear more at ease. 

As a taller-than-average man, Tinsley knew he drew attention. But if he were to look around and act jumpy? He’d stick out like a sore thumb, and probably be memorable. He knew that, but he just couldn’t help it. The adrenaline from the chase earlier in the day was starting back up in his veins, and his fingers were starting to shake. 

Ricky seemed to notice this. “Hey, C. C., come here.” He pulled the detective into a bathroom. It didn’t have stalls, and Goldsworth locked the door behind them. “You’ve gotta chill, man.”

“Why am I the jumpy one, anyways? You’re the one that fucking got shot.” Tinsley ran a hand over his face. “I’ll be fine. Just need a moment.”

Goldsworth nodded, but started to step into his companion’s space. “I think you need to relax,” he said in a low voice, his good hand skimming the fabric of C. C.’s shirt up to smooth against his shoulder. “You’re so skittish, you’re gonna get us noticed.” He looked up and met Tinsley’s eye. “I can help you calm down, if you want.”

_ This is a bad idea, _ said the rational part of C. C.’s mind.  _ We have to get out of here, this could take time we don’t have, and you can’t even trust this guy, can you? _

_ But look at those biceps _ , said the rest of his mind, and it brought forth an image of Ricky underneath him on the bed the night they went undercover. 

“I know you want it,” Goldsworth said, his voice gravelly. He started kissing at Tinsley’s neck, and the detective’s knees started to fold.

“We’re- we should really get going, Ricky,” Tinsley pointed out, but it sounded weak even to his own ears. 

“There’ll be another train,” the smaller man said between sucking at different points just under C. C.’s collar so that they could be hidden. “Let’s have some fun.” 

Tinsley moaned and spun them a quarter turn so that Ricky was pressed back against the counter. He grabbed Goldsworth’s upper legs and lifted him up to sit on the counter so their heights were closer together, and he kissed Ricky hard. He pressed him back so his shoulders were against the mirror, and his hands started undoing Ricky’s pants. 

“That wasn’t a very hard sell,” Ricky quipped when Tinsley pulled away to unfasten his own belt. 

“Were you expecting it to be?”

Ricky shrugged, moving his good hand to pull his pants down around his thighs. “Gonna need help here.”

A few rushed seconds later, Tinsley had pulled Ricky’s pants down and his own, and was kissing Ricky again, his hand wrapped around his cock. Goldsworth was moaning under him, his hips bucking. 

“You want this?”

“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I didn’t,” he pointed out, biting his lower lip. 

Perched on the counter as he was, Ricky’s hips were the same level as C. C.’s, and the detective wrapped his hand around both of their lengths at the same time, rubbing them together. Ricky gripped C. C.’s shirt in his fist tightly, his head thrown back. 

“You look so good,” Tinsley whispered into his ear. “Look at you spread out like this for me.”

Goldsworth groaned deep in his throat in response. “Not gonna… not gonna last much longer…”

Tinsley unfastened the top two buttons of Ricky’s shirt with his free hand and pressed his mouth to the collarbone it exposed, nipping and sucking along the ridge and leaving dark spots on Ricky’s tanned skin. The smaller man tried to hold out for a little longer, but eventually gave in and came in C. C.’s hand, moaning the older man’s name as he did. Tinsley followed close behind. 

“Shit,” Ricky muttered, eloquent as ever.

“Yeah,” C. C. replied breathlessly. He pulled away and grabbed some paper towels to clean the mess off of his hand. Ricky pushed himself off of the counter and tried to refasten his pants with only one hand. Soon, the detective stepped over to him and helped him. 

“Never done it in a train station bathroom,” Goldsworth said in a sultry voice.

“That’s quite specific,” Tinsley noted with a practiced air of indifference, but his heavy breathing belied his tone. 

“Think you’ll be able to stop fidgeting around like you’re a wanted man now?”

“Maybe. If not, you can try this again on the train. Maybe it’ll work better there.”

Ricky rolled his eyes, smacking C. C. lightly on the chest. “If you get lucky, maybe.”

“Hey, you wanted it too.” 

“I never tried to pretend otherwise.”

\-----

On the train, C. C. put their bags in the overhead compartment as Ricky slouched onto the bed. There had only been one sleeper car left with only one bed, but they had gone for it with only a slightly raised eyebrow from the woman at the ticket desk. Tinsley almost tried to claim they were cousins, but he knew the wildly different skin tones and hair and eyes would make it call more attention than not saying anything would. 

“Not bad digs,” Goldsworth mused from the bed. 

“I’d hope not. It’s going to be nearly three days, barring any unexpected stops.”

Ricky scoffed. “Yeah, I’m sure nothing unexpected will happen to  _ us _ .”

“Exactly. Don’t unpack much. I’m not certain we’re entirely among friends onboard here.”

“Why do you say that?”

Tinsley shrugged, pulling out a cigarette. “Better to assume the worst. Keeps you alive longer.”

“Makes sense.” 

Tinsley sat on the side of the bed Ricky wasn’t stretched across. “We should probably get some food,” he noted.

“Probably,” Ricky said, shifting around. Before the detective could ask what he was doing, he had a mop of dark hair in his lap and Ricky’s hand on his knee. 

Tinsley didn’t say anything, just looked pointedly down at Ricky’s face.

“What?” 

He gestured to Ricky’s body pressed against his leg.

“I wanted to.”

That was clearly the only explanation he was going to get, but C. C. realized he didn’t mind Ricky’s intrusion into his space. He kind of liked it, if he was honest. After a moment, he brought his hand down and started stroking through Ricky’s thick hair

“Trying to put me to sleep, gumshoe?” the younger man asked, his voice groggy.

“You should get some rest. It’s been a long-ass day.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“Am I ever? Get some sleep. I’ll stay awake and make sure no one tries to get in.”

Ricky nodded and nestled his head deeper into Tinsley’s thigh. C. C. couldn’t help but look at him as he slept. His face relaxed into something younger, something softer, something with less hard edges and more warmth, even with his eyes closed and his lips parted slightly.

“Of all the private investigators in all the world, he had to come to me,” Tinsley said under his breath with a huff of laughter. His life had certainly gotten more interesting in the days since Ricky Goldsworth walked into it. Was it worth it? 

“Guess that’s up to you,” he murmured aloud to the sleeping man in his lap.

\-----

A few hours later, the pair had eaten and were back in the sleeper car. “You should sleep now,” Ricky said. “You’ve been awake all day, you must be exhausted.”

“How do I know you won’t shoot me in my sleep?” Tinsley asked, half joking.

“Scout’s honor.”

The older man scoffed. “You were never a scout.”

“True.” He sat on the bed and pat the mattress beside him for C. C. to join him. “Okay, you can trust I won’t shoot you or run away from you because I didn’t have to come and get you and warn you about the price on your head. Why would I go through all this trouble just to bail on you now?”

“Why would you go through all this trouble anyways? You could’ve turned me in for the money, or just left without me and hoped I would have distracted them enough while you ran.” He sat next to Ricky on the bed, leaning back against the headboard.

“Like I said in your office: the last good man I worked with, I couldn’t save him. He’s still in a coma back in San Francisco. I don’t want you on my conscience, too.” The sharp, dangerous thing usually hidden behind his dark eyes was replaced with something no less sharp, but also weary, tired. 

Tinsley nodded slowly, thinking over this admission. “It’s not just because I’m a good lay?” he asked with a crooked smile.

Ricky elbowed him, but was smiling back. “That may factor into it as well. Now get some sleep. I need you sharp if you’re gonna be watching my neck.”

The detective couldn’t fight a yawn and he shifted to lie on a pillow, his feet dangling off the end of the too-short bed. 

“Come here,” Ricky said, pulling on his arm. He made C. C. rest his head against Ricky’s chest, and he pulled his long legs up so his knees brushed against Goldsworth’s. “Can’t have you half-off the bed, can we?”

“Don’t matter to me,” Tinsley said with a stifled yawn, the events of the day finally catching up with him. 

“Just sleep, okay?”

“Wake me up if you start getting drowsy.”

“I will.” He rubbed C. C.’s shoulder in a way that Tinsley wasn’t sure was meant to bring comfort to him or Ricky. 

It was strange to C. C., to be curled up against someone in such a vulnerable manner. Not that he trusted Goldsworth as far as he could throw him, but he did believe that it was in Ricky’s best interest that they stayed together. So he allowed himself to feel small for the first time in a long time, and he fell asleep to Ricky’s steady heartbeat in his ear and Ricky’s warm hand on his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! I hope you're enjoying this! We're coming close to the end of my first work concerning these two, but I do have some Ideas concerning future works.


	9. Plans for the Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ricky and C. C. talk about the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super short final chapter! I hope you've enjoyed this story, and I've had a lot of fun writing this!

The next two days went by uneventfully. The two men settled into a routine, staying in their sleeper car most of the time. They found ways to pass the time, of course.

“What are we going to do when we get to Chicago?” C. C. asked lying in bed next to Ricky after one of these times. They were both smoking, lying back on the pillows, with Ricky leaning against C. C.’s chest. 

“Hopefully a lot more of that,” Ricky said, smirking up at Tinsley.

Tinsley rolled his eyes, but gave Ricky a half-smile. “You know what I mean.” 

“I assume you’ll open another PI office.”

“What about you?”

Ricky took a couple of draws on the cigarette, seeming to think about it. “Maybe I’ll reopen my Psychic Investigation office.”

Tinsley scoffed a little bit. “You and your ghosts.”

“I know you don’t believe in them, but I do.” 

The taller man smiled down at him, running his long fingers through Ricky’s hair. “I know. My real question is, you know… what are  _ we  _ gonna do?”

“You mean are we gonna stay in touch? Keep doing this? Because I’d certainly like that. Maybe…” Ricky seemed to have an idea, but his voice trailed off.

“Maybe…?” 

“Well, maybe we could open a business together. Psychic and Private Investigations. It’d be cheaper to rent out one office space.”

Tinsley thought about this. “You think it’s a good idea?”

“Maybe not, but I know I want you nearby in case of another foot chase through the city, or in case I get shot again. Also, when have I ever cared about if something was a good idea?”

The detective laughed softly. “Good point, Mr. ‘I’m-gonna-blackmail-the-fuckin’-mob.’”

“Shut up, C. C.,” Ricky said, rolling onto his stomach to look down at the taller man. “I mean it, y’know? Let’s open our own business. We’ll each need partners, so let’s be each other’s.”

Tinsley thought about this. About the prospect of working with Goldsworth, of being alongside him. Did he trust this man? He wanted to. And he would be able to keep an eye on him if they worked together. 

Also, he wanted to. He wanted to keep Ricky close. Wanted to continue this… whatever it was that they were doing.

“Why not? Let’s do it.”

Ricky smiled widely and kissed C. C. The kiss was rough and tasted like tobacco. 

  
_ Maybe this is a bad idea, _ he thought. He decided he didn’t really care, though. Not when Ricky was kissing him like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends, I hope you liked this! I'm considering making a series of these two investigating crimes and ghosts and their developing relationship. Thoughts? 
> 
> If you feel led to promote this fic on tumblr, I'd appreciate that SO much! I'd love for word about this fic to get out a bit better.


End file.
